A Rat's Tale: The First Year
by Koanashi
Summary: A series of key events in Peter Pettigrew's first year at Hogwarts, told in chronological order.


Koanashi: This is my second Harry Potter fic, and first one that will have multiple chapters. I've tried my best to keep everyone in character, though am always willing to work on characterization if anyone feels I'm not doing it correctly! Constructive criticism is, after all, one of the greatest gifts a writer can receive.

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Peter dragged the heavy trunk through the corridors of the Hogwart's Express, eager to find a compartment and allow it all to sink in. Peter learnt to really appreciate the fact his father has carried the trunk to the station. How on earth he had managed was beyond Peter. Maybe there was a spell for making things lighter? Peter lugged the monstrosity into the first compartment without older students – seemingly empty at the time – and slumped onto the bench. The luggage could be rearranged in a moment. Right now, Peter needed a breather.

Hogwarts! Peter knew his heart's racing was less to do with the small amount of physical work and more to do with the exhilarating sensation of certainty in his magic. The summer had been terrible. He waited every day for the owl to arrive. His worst fear – Peter is _not_ going to Hogwarts. Peter is _not_ magical. Peter is a _squib_. He had never really been a model of self-confidence, but as the days passed and still no word from Hogwarts, no matter how faint the possibility… he'd never been very lucky either.

It didn't matter to Peter if he was going to be the best. What mattered was that he was going. Well, would be. Part of him still wondered if it wasn't all just a big mistake. Maybe it wasn't his letter. Maybe there was another Peter Pettigrew, somewhere, and he should have received the letter and now he would be doomed to life as a squib, or just bog-standard-if-a-bit-odd-Muggle. Peter shifted in his seat, and decided to think of what was best to do with his case. Mother did not approve of that that negative way of thinking, now did she?

It was only when Peter began to look around the cabin that he noticed the small boy in the corner, hunched over a book, barely taking notice of him. Well, Peter had to admit he was probably of a smaller stature than the other boy, if a bit stockier. Both his parents were below average in height, so odds where he would always have to crane his neck upwards. His father was forever complaining about neck pains.

Peter decided to manoeuvre the trunk further into the cabin. After doing so, he noticed that the boy in the corner had a thin smile on his face. Peter wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but it didn't matter. He seemed nice, if first impressions mattered, and Peter was keen to make new friends.

"Hello?" Peter didn't excel in taking the initiative when socializing. But he would have to get over his terrible shyness. It was just one of those challenges of life, as father used to say.

The boy removed a bookmark from the seat next to him and placed it carefully between the cream pages, closing his book – which Peter now recognised as one of the textbooks they had purchased weeks ago in Diagon Alley – as he turned towards Peter. There was something warm about him, and Peter felt invited to continue the conversation.

"I'm a first year." 'Well, that was obvious. What an idiot I am,' Peter added to himself, but before the boy could respond, he quickly gave a rushed introduction and threw his hand in the boys general direction. 'So much for appearing calm and collected. I bet I look like a right prat.'

But the boy continued to smile at him, and took the outstretched hand, which was clammy from the combination of nervous tension and excitement of the whole new life stretched before him. "Remus Lupin. It's a pleasure to meet you, Peter." Peter beamed in return. He was lucky – lucky to have met someone so kind, and tolerant enough to endure his presence, so shortly after just boarding the train. Obviously an intellectual too – how many first years went through their textbooks after overcoming the initial aura of newness emitted from them? He hadn't even left King's Cross yet and still, Peter felt as though he was part of a different world now.

"Um… would you like some help with that?" Remus gestured towards the trunk, still looming ominously in the corner, as if intent to put as many backs out as possible. His voice had a softness to it, not like the shrill squeak of Peter's. Peter gladly accepted the generous offer to help with the case.

Afterwards, however, he sat there, in an odd silence, contemplating his interactions with the ever-so-kind-and-friendly Remus Lupin. Remus had smiled at him, yes, and he had offered him help with his case, but Peter was probably jumping to conclusions when believing that this person might become his friend. His first friend.

His parents were always worried about him, and rarely let him leave the house. They didn't want him playing with Muggle children (why exactly was never clear to Peter), which made things difficult, as they lived at the edge of a Muggle-residence. There had been his cousins, yes, but they all hated him. They had made fun of him. Laughed at him. Poked him. A few of the older ones had threatened to jinx him. Up until a few years ago, when he first heard that it was against the law for students to use magic outside of school, he'd been mortified.

Peter found the silence of the cabin uncomfortable. Remus must have gotten bored with him – he'd gone back to his book. Peter twiddled his thumbs. Yes, it was probably all one big mistake…

"Are those your parents?" Peter looked up, startled. "Oh, sorry about that. Just finishing off the chapter. I only had a page to go." Remus gestured towards the window. Indeed, Peter's parents were stood there, on the platform, ready to wave Peter off. They didn't appear to have spotted him yet, as Peter had been away from the window. Peter wasn't all to surprised that someone like Remus had noticed the similarities of his parents features and his own – for one thing their height set them apart from the crowd.

But there was one distinct difference between Peter and his parents. Whilst Peter was a ball of nervous tension, forever fiddling and with terribly posture, they stood tall and proud. At least, that was how Peter saw them. He desperately wanted to be someone they could be proud of. 'Well, Peter, your taking the first steps towards that' he told himself.

He tapped on the glass – in a rather timid, feeble sort of way, but the motion must have gotten their attention somehow, as his mother's eyes fell on him, and she jabbed his father in the side with her elbow. Peter smiled. He knew he would miss his parents greatly, even though part of him wished he had the pride and confidence in himself to ignore the enthusiastic waves.

Peter turned to Remus, the embarrassment etched on his features. Remus definitely had a calming gentleness to him, as if he knew what you were going to do and that it was the right thing to do. 'If only I was good enough to be friends with him…' thought Peter. But now was not the time for self pity or negative thinking. He looked back to his parents, and returned the good-bye gesture, if not with the same amount of eagerness.

The final whistle blew, and the sounds of the Hogwarts Express starting off on its long journey to Scotland began to whir in the background. His mother moved closer to the train, as if she wanted to give him one last hug through the glass. Slowly the world shifted to the left, and they began to move forward. His mother tried her best to keep up whilst still walking, but gave all the more frantic waves when having to give up and stand still. No one else on the entire platform made such a great display of their child leaving home.

Peter's pale complexion brought out the pinkish tinge – more like red flush - of his cheeks far more than her wanted. It was embarrassing - no, humiliating. Surely his mother knew this. Surely! Of course, she had always said that it would do him some good if he toughened up a little. Maybe this was her way of ensuring such a change would be necessary. Remus had returned to his book again, possibly to ensure that Peter didn't feel even more embarrassed about his first frie- well, acquaintance at Hogwarts watching the entire open display of affection.

The journey went swiftly. Remus was a nice person, but not all too talkative, which did make things difficult. Neither of their personalities lent itself towards bringing up new topics, though occasionally Peter would stumble across ones that he thought of as interesting, with varying success. Peter couldn't quite overcome the sense that Remus was merely tolerating him through out the whole train journey, but if his kindness seemed genuine enough for Peter to feel a little less edgy.

Not to say that Remus was as serene as he had initially seemed. The boy had shied away from a few topics, quickly attempting to change them, more often than not resulting in yet another silence, though this time the awkwardness wasn't just Peter's imagination. The longest one had, surprisingly, had fallen when Peter asked about Remus' book. It was a Defence Against the Dark Arts book, one of the more interesting of the ones Peter had flicked through.

"Of course, since we're only first years, we don't get to study a lot of the really interesting stuff, but I suppose we all have to start off somewhere!" Peter gave a nervous laugh. "I think it looks fascinating, I hope we get a good teacher."

Lupin gave a slight nod agreement. "Yes… I think it will be quite… useful."

"Why? Planning on becoming an Auror or something?" Peter question. The look on Remus' face seemed to change in an instant from cheerful to grim. Peter was confused – had he said something wrong? Maybe he had gotten the wrong idea about what Aurors where. He was forever mixing up words. Remus was probably thinking about how awful it was to be stuck in a cabin with only stupid Peter to keep him company. "What's wrong?" he asked timidly, the vague hope that his fears weren't true.

"Nothing! Nothing!" Lupin hastily replied. "Sorry, just went off into my own little world. I do that sometimes. It's awfully rude of me, I'm terribly sorry. Did I look pale or something? Must be the light." He gave a smile, but this one came less naturally than the others. It was a nervous one, not like the ones that Peter usually gave, but one that screamed 'quick, change the subject! Please!'

Or maybe Peter was just overanalyzing things again.

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Koanashi: I hope this fic was half decent... the idea has been mulling in my head in a while, and though I'm sure the premise isn't particularly original, I hope my version of it is at least acceptable in the eyes of the general public. I would appreciate any feedback. I can't say when I will be updating, but it will probably be fairly soon as I am currently on holiday. The next chapter will be the sorting, and will introduce Sirius and James, as well as mention various other people attending Hogwarts at the time.


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